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Halo: Minorca Saga/Chapter Sixteen
CHRONOLOGICAL ANOMALY 2552??? / FORERUNNER “LABYRINTH” FACILITY The Spartans has been gone a while, and Wallace was beginning to wonder if they hadn’t gotten lost – or worse, whether there were Covenant in the Labyrinth already, and had claimed their first victims. The corridors were massive, and the platoon didn’t even bother taking cover. There was no cover available besides the Warthogs. But they didn’t hurry along either. If there was Covenant here, they didn’t want to slam headlong into them. He waved a hand, and Tinkerbell fluttered away. The machine looked like a small plasma pistol, floating around backwards. A pair of wings jutted from the back, and at the front a small light glowed dim. As they had moved further, trying to catch up to the Spartans, they had stumbled across it. Wallace had nicknamed it Tinkerbell after a story his mother had once told him. It insisted on trying to get close to the vehicles, using a laser cutter to repair what it perceived as damage. It was more of a hindrance than help, really, but it seemed curious and gentle. And enthusiastic. They rounded a corner, and the machine floated up to the roof. Wallace’s eyes followed it. He gaped. Above, streams of the little machines crisscrossed the ceiling, entering and exiting from portals at the top of the walls. There must have been hundreds…thousands of them. As Wallace’s eyes drifted down, he saw a sight even less welcome. There were larger machines, some a sphere with three booms around them, others angular and shifting. And through them all waded a mammoth machine, as big as a dropship, with huge arms and shields in front of it. “Back up! Back up, damn it!” The vehicles were put in reverse, and they sped out of there. If they were hostile, they would have been sitting ducks. Wallace disembarked, waving Vasquez to do the same and follow him forward. He used her sniper rifle to get a better view of the chamber. It was massive, and could have held three gravball stadiums. There were railings along the sides where platforms led to control panels, and in the middle of the chamber a chasm. The effect was impressive. It was also not a good thing. There was no way back. The Spartans must have come this way, because there were no other side-passages or corridors. Wallace frowned. There had to be some way through. “What the hell are those things?” muttered Vasquez. “No idea Corporal. But whatever they are, I don’t want to get on their bad side. And I want to be in their field of fire if I can help it.” She nodded to the left. “Over there, Sarge. We could use them as cover.” There were a number of cube-shaped objects cluttering the chamber floor, grouped together in a tight cluster. Vasquez was right – they even covered the entrance to the walkway. “There’s a lot of empty spare between here and there, Vasquez.” “I always did well in sprints.” Damn. Why had she volunteered? That was the first mantra a Marine who intended to live a long and healthy life learned – never volunteer for nothin’. She had abandoned her sniper rifle and most of the armour plating. They were dead weight, and she doubted they’d be useful against…whatever these machines were. She had an M7S submachine gun clipped to his ammo belt, but other than that she had lightened her load as much as possible. She tensed her feet, getting ready to run as if her life depended on it. It very well might. She took off – the air rushed around her as she powered across the floor. From her peripheral vision, she saw machines swivel, pivoting in mid-air, red lights glowing- There was a blistering heat across her back, and she clenched here eyes shut as she ran. The sound of other beams firing around her made her run even faster if it was possible. And then she was through. She unclipped the M7S, flicking the safety off, hoping bullets worked against these things as she moved from cube to cube, hoping the machines weren’t smart enough to realise she was lightly armed. Apparently, they were very smart. She almost ran into one of the machines, a glowing orb with struts shifting and a weapon slung underneath it. She flinched as its weapon glowed red… …and then powered down again. It floated away. Okay. Now Vasquez was confused as hell. But she put it out of her mind, focussing on the control panel. She was closer now, and the angle the machines floated at provided less cover. But as they turned to track her progress, they held their fire. And a new machine had joined them, a carved out sphere with another inside it glowing blue. “Ah, Excellent! More Reclaimers!” It floated to a stop in front of her. She curved around it, ducking through an overhang. It shifted its position, bringing it into her way. She went around it again, trying to keep her submachine gun trained on it. “Please, Reclaimer, I mean you no harm. If you wish access to the control panel, then all you had to do was ask.” It spoke her language, she realised with a shock. And it called her…what? Reclaimer? And then an alien machine speaking the English language was the least of her problems. Wallace let out a small cry as Vasquez vanished in a golden glow, and hefted his rifle. Damn! He shouldn’t have sent her – shouldn’t have tried to follow the Spartans – shouldn’t have- “Sarge?” Wallace spun – and there, behind him, was Corporal Vasquez. “What the-” “Please, lower your firearm.” The machine descended, floating at around eye-height. It tilted in a curious gesture, seemng to stare right at Wallace. “Over my dead body, lightbulb.” The machine seemed to let out an electronic sigh. “My concern is not for my safety, you understand. Units of my classification have more than sufficient shielding to protect against such inferior projectile weapons. But deflection may cause harm to you or a member of your group. Please. Lower your firearm.” It sounded like a schoolteacher dealing with a naughty pupil. Wallace frowned, but reattached it to his magnetic clamps. “And the rest of your group?” Wallace looked – the platoon had manoeuvred the Warthogs as cover, and now trained submachineguns, pistols, rifles, and chainguns at the machine. Wallace nodded, and the Marines began to grudgingly holster their weapons. “Okay. Now what are you going to do with us?” “First, I must relocate you to a safer location. This area is no longer safe for Reclaimer habitation.” “Wait, what-“ The golden glow returned, surrounding them. No! The creature leapt from the shadows with all its might, perhaps hoping to catch one of the creatures before it disappeared – to claim the flesh it had persevered for. It passed through the after-image, hitting the floor hard. And now, the Sentinels took aim. But the corridors contained more than mere shadows. Grotesque behemoths lumbered out, roaring defiance. Further back, bulbous creatures bristling with spikes took aim. War broke out. The Sentinels were technically superior. They floated out of range of the creatures, using their laser weapons efficiently and quickly. But the numbers of the creatures swelled. The behemoths leapt into the air, latching on to sentinels, dragging them down, tearing them apart with bare hands – or what sufficed for hands. The smaller spiky creatures convulsed, and rods lanced out, accelerated past the speed of sound, slamming into shields and tearing into metal plating. The massive Enforcer floated forward, its massive shield covering the smaller constructs behind it. Behind them, the shadows moved… The creatures moved on, taking time only to activate the light bridge across the canyon to further their progress. They would claim the secrets of this facility, that had been their sanctum and prison for millennia. As they passed, the infection form paused. Had the air shifted? It ignored it. It was not food. And they were hungry. Qur’a’s eyes were wide in fear. Around him, his warriors clutched their weapons, yearning to wipe these abominations out but terrified all the same. The Flood. The unholy demons that had opposed the Gods aeons ago, and who had almost brought about the end of the universe. Qur’a had heard tales of such things as an infant, always as a child. If he ha dmisbehaved, he would be told the demons would come for him. Even then, he had never believed it. Not in his heart of hearts. But somewhere inside him a small part had thought “what if they are…” ‘Joralanee moved forward slowly, crouching over the remnants of one of the machines, gently prodding it with a boot to see if it wad dead. When the wreckage refused to budge, she leaned down further to inspect it. “Sentinels,” she whispered over the BattleNet. “Sacred warriors of the Gods.” Juno was his Lance’s technical specialist, but she was also their specialist on all matters of the Forerunners. She had been training to be a warrior-monk before deciding the life of a warrior of the Covenant would be more exciting. He wondered if she was beginning to regret it now. Qur’a certainly was. As Kaidon of the Sovereign-State of Morheka, Qur’a had a duty to serve in the Covenant. Many of his illustrious ancestors had joined the regular Army, becoming Field Masters. They usually lived. Others had joined the navy, and led fleets into battle. A few had become High Councillors. But Qur’a was the first to break with tradition and become a Special Operations Ultra. Juno came from the Righteous Trinity to the north of Morheka. A few members of his Lance came from Mopad. But in battle, geography was ignored and forgotten. They had become brothers and sisters forged and tempered in battle. The shambling legion passed with scarcely a glance at the invisible Sangheili. Qur’a wondered whether it was because of their active camouflage, or because they had all frozen in fear. Their orders were…confused. He knew the Covenant had arrived to claim a relic, but even the Field Master had not known what it was. When the luminaries had detected it, they had simply assumed it would be a minor artefact, quickly recovered and studied. Nobody had expected this… “Can we reach the Field Master yet?” he asked their communications specialist, Suna ‘Warrumee. “No excellency. The signals are…confusing. Distorted. Even a distance of only a few units will interrupt contact. As long as we stay close, it wont effect our team.” Qur’a silently cursed his luck. He wondered how Field Master ‘Kotarqee was faring? He had been planning on crushing the human defences to allow the Covenant to allow access to the other signal. Other signal… “There must be a way out of here. Tlatomee, take your File and search for it. If you encounter the humans, do not engage. Follow them if you must, but find that exit. The rest of us will search this place for relics, and perhaps a way to stop the Flood.” ‘Tlatomee nodded, an action outlined on the Heads-Up-Display projected onto his goggles, and half of the Lance split off, moving across the light bridge. “May the Forerunners have mercy upon us,” he muttered. “For the Parasite shall not.” Michael had listened, and thought he could piece together most of the puzzle, or at least part of it. Thousands of years ago, the Forerunners had dominated the galaxy before vanishing. The Caretaker refused to divulge the reason behind their disappearance, only that it was related to the purpose of the Labyrinth. But when they had gone, they had left a lot behind. Some of it destroyed by the wear of time, some of it buried…and some, like the Labyrinth, intact. That was what the Covenant was after – the relics left behind by the Forerunners, who the revered as gods. “So, this Labyrinth. It was a testing facility, yes?” “Indeed,” the Caretaker said, almost offhand. “It was established to aid in the war effort, and to find exploitable disadvantages.” “And I don’t suppose you could tell us who your makers fought?” “I am sorry, but no. Protocol is quite clear on that, as I have already explained.” Michael shook his head. “Yes, you said.” “While my Sentinels continue sterilisation protocols, I can at least show you the heart of the facility. It is the safest place here, and should provide adequate protection.” Exactly what they needed protection from, Michael had no idea. As the senior officer present, he had been elected as their representative. The fact that he was also from the Office of Naval Intelligence helped matters, of course. The Spartans and Marines swept the corridors with their weapons, staying alert for whatever threat the Caretaker talked about. Occasionally, they would reach the end of a corridor, and they would be teleported to the other side, continuing their journey. Michael suspected that it actually involved a miniscule controlled slipspace rupture, rather than the disassembly and reassembly of their atoms, but it was a convenient name and had the same effect. Simplicity was not to be sneezed at. And as they walked, they talked. Or, at least, the humans plied the Caretaker with questions and tried to fit the answers together. “So, what is the centre like?” “The Core? Standard fare – containment and research stations, gravitic maintenance assemblies, and a zero-point energy power supply.” Michael frowned. “No. That’s impssible. You can’t get zero point energy. Its like perpetual motion machines – energy must come from and go somewhere.” “As you say, Reclaimer, but your disbelief does not stop it from existing.” “But it violates the laws of thermodynamics!” “YOUR laws. Of course, your technological state was projected to be far ahead of your current state, but I had expected at least some improvement…ah, here we are. The Core.” The chamber was quite large, and the floor curved downwards. Michael knew he should be feeling off balance on the uneven surface, but gravity hugged its curvature, keeping him firmly rooted upright. Behind him, the axenoarchaeologist gasped. Michael stared in astonishment. The chamber was beautiful. Around them, glittering carvings and glyphs seemed to float in the air around them…and then, with a start, Michael realised they were floating around them. Behind them, the solid granite walls were smooth and perfectly curved. Michael had enough experience to appraise it approvingly with a craftsmans eye. His father had been a statue carver back on Miridem… But more astonishing than the holograms and molecule-perfect construction was the glowing purple beam that lit the centre of the room, and in the middle of it, a floating crystal of sapphire as big as his hand. There was a snort of derision from behind him. “Is that it?” Sergeant Wallace demanded. “Well, yes, Reclaimer. This crystal powers this facility and others like it – past, present, and future.” Michael frowned. “What?” It took a lot of explaining, and Michael’s grasp of quantum mechanics was barely enough to get hold of the basics. It was quite beyond the Marines, though the Spartans listened with interest. And the Xenoarchaeologist frowned as though what he was being told made perfect sense. It probably did. Michael was an expert on the Covenant, not these Forerunners. It was nice to have someone else to consult for a change. Zero-point energy was not a new theory. Technically, it was the smallest possible energy of a quantum mechanical physical system. And if it could be extracted and used, it could provide its users with virtually unlimited power – perpetual motion devices that constantly generated energy without using any. But of course, that violated so many laws of physics that it was impossible. For one thing, if energy was taken from a zero point system it would change the system itself. But it apparently didn’t. That was because the energy it extracted wasn’t from THIS universe. Astrophysicists had speculated for centuries on why slipspace seemed to be so chaotic – many of its physical laws had broken down, and quantum eddies made navigating it a difficult prospect at the best of times, and at worst it was downright lethal. The dimensions breakdown had been because of this crystal. The Forerunners had never needed to use slipspace for travel. They had far more efficient – and here, Michael grimaced at the machine’s prim tone of superiority – methods of moving about the galaxy. So they had managed to tunnel into another universe, one newly born, and had drained it of its energy to give themselves an infinite supply of power. “How much does the crystal generate?” Carson asked, curious. “To power hundreds of facilities like this-” The Caretaker looked haughty. “Like this? You misunderstand me, I think. This single crystal powered the Forerunners entire civilisation. Its ships, its cities, its translocation grids…everything. All at once.” Michael whistled. “That would be something. Could we perhaps get closer?” “You can try, but I am quite confident you will not succeed.” Michael shrugged, and tried to move towards it. He reached out, to the crystal- He blinked, confused. Where was he? He’d been reaching for the crystal and…now he was on the other side of the room? He turned around. The Marines and Spartans were on the other side of the crystal now. He tried to move towards it again- He felt a hand on his shoulder, and the Sergeant shook his head. “You just went straight through it. Twice.” “Of course,” the Caretaker said, as though it was balaringly obvious. “A compressed slipspace field encapsulating the artefact allows us to view it. This is merely an afterimage. The Crystal is quite safe, suspended in the slipstream space it draws its energy from.” Wallace snorted. “Commander, this has been a waste of our time. We should find what the Covenant were looking for and get back to base.” Michael sighed. “As fascinating as this place is, I must agree with you, Sergeant. And, of course, Doctor Carson needs to be briefed on the Covenant, since he disappeared before…they…” He glanced at the Doctor. He looked young, not like a man who had been lost for more than thirty years. But he’d disappeared in 2520. A sudden realisation struck him. “When we return, will there BE a base to return to?” he demanded, glaring at the Caretaker. “Uncertain. The temporal fluctuations that surround this place are a sideeffect of the crystal, and cannot be predicted with great accuracy. You could return a day after you left, or a hundred years before. There’s no certainty.” The Marines murmured. If they could go back, perhaps they could warn the UNSC, be ready for the Covenant when they attacked…but they’d never see their families again. They might not even be born. And they’d have to fight the Covenant all over again. Or of they emerged a hundred years later…they could find themselves in a galaxy controlled by the Covenant. Neither prospect was particularly inviting. “What about the Grandfather Paradox?” Michael asked, hopeful. “If we did go back a hundred years, could we change it? And if we did…would we still be born?” “If you do go back in time, and you tried to change things, then you did not succeed. Time is unchangeable. What happens is fixed. How it happens is a flexible stream, but it always ends up in the sea.” Damn. So much for that. “Still, you cannot remain here. Outbreaks are being reported in all sectors, and seventeen Sentinel maintenance facilities have been overrun. Your presence remains a further threat to containment that must be negated.” “Containment of WHAT?!” growled the lead Spartan, Jamal. “What are you keeping in here? What are we a threat to?” “Well, since containment if failing already…this facility was originally established as a weapons testing facility. Do you understand? We sought ways to fight out adversary. Biolgical viruses. Directed energy weapons. Solid light containment fields. And our crowning achievement, the Halo Effect generators. All of them were designed to combat a parasitic alien species we termed the Flood.” For a moment, Michael could have sworn he had heard a gasp. But all of the Marines and Doctor Carson looked passive, perhaps even bemused. The Spartans, with their reflective visors, were a mystery. “A flood? And…this is what you are keeping in here?” The Caretaker moved to another translocation grid panel, and they were surrounded in glowing golden light as it replied. “Research specimens were retained by several Installations as a failsafe measure in case the Array failed. If the Flood persisted, we would eventually find a means of defeating them. Or so it was hoped.” The Caretaker sighed as the glow dissipated. “Alas, it would seem that nothing we try works. They rapidly become immune against even our most successful biological weapons. They are immune to radiation, and the pure strains are unaffected by the Halo Effect. And they are capable of mutating their physiology at will, so that any strategy we come up with can rapidly be countered. They are even able to tap into the computer systems, which I understand they have begun now. Excuse me-” There was a brilliant flash of light, and a beam of pure energy lanced out of the Caretaker’s central eye, striking one of the shadows. It burst violently in mid-leap, and Vasquez hurriedly stepped back as its remains collapsed at her feet. The shadows moved. The weren’t shadows. “I apologise. I did not anticipate infection of this area. One moment…” Another glow, golden this time, appeared around the Caretaker. The creatures broke off from the shadows, leaping at them in a wave of flesh – and struck an invisible barrier. Golden flecks appeared where the creatures made contact, and Michael could make out a perfect sphere surrounding them. “And now…” The golden glow of the translocation grid enveloped Michael again… And then blackness. Qur’a was astonished at many things. Where to begin? The relic they had sought, had fought so hard to reach, did not exist in the conventional way. The abomination that had infected the structure had been harboured by the gods because there was no other way to stop them. And the Oracle had treated the humans with difference…respect… And, for the first time in his life, Qur’a began to doubt the Prophets. Vermin? How could they be vermin if an Oracle obeyed their commands? How could the Forerunners approve, even demand, their extinction if they had made the Humans their “Reclaimers”? The other members of his lance had hung back. If Qur’a had been discovered, he did not want to lose his whole lance because they demanded revenge. He returned to them with haste, turning his thoughts over in his head. Juno ‘Joralanee looked up as he approached. “What news, Excellency? Any relics discovered?” He shook his head firmly. “No, Sub-Commander. There are no relics here. Only the abomination and a handful of…only the abomination.” Why did he not tell them? His thoughts were important. They could split the Covenant apart if he shared them…but no. The Great Journey came before any pride he felt in his race, and no matter what special place the humans held in the Gods’ hearts, they impeded their progress. They would be swept away by the holy light of the sacred rings. Or perhaps they would be gathered up on the wings of angels? No. Safer to keep them to himself. Perhaps he would discuss it with the Prophets, bnut for now secrecy would ensure their survival. “Any word from the ‘Tlatomee and his File?” “None, Commander. They remain within range, but they do not respond.” Qur’a bared his teeth in anger. “Then they must have been claimed by the parasite. Accursed abominations!” “What do we do now, Commander?” Qur’a sighed, shaking his head. “If the scriptures speak truth, then the Abomination almost defeated the Forerunners themselves. I am not so arrogant as to presume even the Covenant invulnerable. We must find a way to stop the Parasite from escaping from this place, and we must find a way to study this sacred structure with greater clarity than we can afford now.” He shuddered as shambling monsters strode past, ignoring the stealthed Sangheili. Qur’a was glad that the parasite did not seem to be paying attention – he knew full well that the creatures had no need for eyes, and used other senses to find their paths. He was only grateful that they didn’t seem to be using them, or that their camouflage seemed to be confounding them. “We return, and we report our findings to Field Master ‘Kotarqee. He will know what to do.” He didn’t mention that if he made this the Field Master’s burden, then it was no longer his. It bore down on his mind – and he kept returning inevitably to the humans. What had the Oracle meant by calling them “Reclaimers”? Why had it treated them with such respect if they were vermin? The answers terrified Qur’a – not because they might be true, but because it would mean that the Prophets who had decreed them Heretics were false. And if they were false about this, they could be false about a great many things… The translocation field glowed gold for one last time, and the Caretaker saw the occupants of it flash and disappear. A few Sentinels continued to patrol the corridors, supported by their heavier brethren and by Enforcers. Constructors desperately set to work, trying to repair damage. “What did you tell them?” The Caretaker didn’t turn around. “Only what protocol allowed.” There was a glow in the shadows, and another construct emerged from where it had remained, hidden. It flickered, the active camouflage field still dissipating. It was larger than the Monitor, elongated vertically, with four wing-like thrusters jutting from behind it. Its eye flickered. “A pity. You are a fool, Caretaker. You set too much store by Protocol that is easily broken.” The Monitor turned to face its counterpart, its eye now flaring red. “How dare you! There has been no breach of containment for 101,023 Cycles, Guardian!” The Guardian turned away from the Caretaker, a flight of its own Sentinels following it in escort. And as he left, he called back: “Because there was nothing to tempt the Flood. This world was barren and lifeless, until the Reclaimers arrived. Even after they made this world theirs, you contained them only because of superior forces. You have spent twenty Cycles fighting more desperately than the thousands you spent enforcing the Protocol. They did not try, because there was no gain. You let them bide their time and regather their strength, because of your Protocol. You shall be the doom of us all.” And then he was gone, leaving the Caretaker spluttering and seething in his wake. Category:Minorca Saga